


A Moment to Take Notice

by Quco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence post season 4, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hallucinations, Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt Stiles, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Mild Gore, Nogitsune Effects, Other, Panic Attacks, Post Season 4, Post-Nogitsune, Psychological Torture, Romance, Torture, Violence, suffocation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quco/pseuds/Quco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a very normal day in Beacon Hills. The sun is out and summer is right around the Corner. The initial business with Kate and the Benefactor is over. It seems like the world is taking a better turn for our pack, but Stiles is looking worse for wear. He falls asleep at school, his grades are dropping, he can’t sleep at night and he and Malia have drifted apart.</p><p>The rest of the pack seems worried about Stiles. Stiles then starts to notice a certain older werewolf popping up at random places throughout school. “And oh my god! Derek! Can you please stop stalking me???”</p><p>However, things starts taking a turn for the worse, and Stiles finds himself trapped, his past coming back to haunt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE 24.02.17   
> Once I finish my other fic (seeing as it's so close to completion) I will continue this fic. Except a new chapter (hopefully) in less than two months time!
> 
> UPDATE: 12. sep. '16  
> I haven't been able to update for a while, and is therefore putting this series on a Hiatus. I plan to finish my other ongoing fic first, then start this Stiles fic up again when I get a chapter backlog and can finally see the end closing in!  
> Hope you all have enjoyed so far, and you'll all enjoy again when I resume!
> 
> Lastly, this is going to end up being pretty long, i have almost everything planned out and hope you will take this ride with me!

Occasional sighs broke the monotone of pens scratching against paper. Some were more desperately clawing down sentence after sentence than others. Stiles’ eyelids tried to close themselves without his consent and he jolted upright. He was so tired, and he didn’t know where to even start. They were ten minutes into the test and Stiles hadn’t even started on the first question Usually he would have finished the first page by now. Even if what he was writing about didn’t have anything to do with the actual topic, well, that was another matter entirely. Like he cared though, tests were so boring and normal. He didn’t care about what Freud meant or what was the square root of 5 x 32 or whatever. He knew the answers sure, but the questions were so boring. He needed excitement. Now, ask him what had mangled the last dead body found in the woods, that he would probably sit up until four at night researching. Or, you know, go investigate by himself.

His eyes trailed up to the top of the questionnaire sheet. Name, date, class. He quickly jotted down his full name, paused and then scratched it out. Everyone knew him as Stiles, so he wrote that instead. It was easier that way. He wondered if his teachers even remembered his actual first name. Last time he had peeked at the attendance sheet he was marked as Stiles Stilinski. He stared out the window and tried to remember the date. It was a beautiful summer day, just a few weeks until summer vacation. Stiles wasn’t looking forward to it at all. He stared down at the test again, glanced up at the blackboard and joined the sigh choir. Maybe if he glared at the test hard enough, it would help? That was probably a good way to remember the answer, intensive thinking, he was good at that. He bent down closer to the page. His treacherous eyelids slid down again. Closing his eyes would probably help him think.  

 

Dang it! Stiles jerked to life again. He shrewdly peered around the classroom under the cover of stretching himself. Coach glared at him. Stiles gave him a quick, awkward smile and lifted his hand in greeting as if saying; yo coach, not doing anything bad, promise. Not that he was doing anything bad that is. It wasn’t as if he could see what the others were writing from here, nope, people were being too defensive over their answers. Stiles wasn’t psychic, now that he was pretty sure of. Once more he surveyed the page in front of him, and a light went on inside his head, he remembered! Psht, this was such an easy question, what was wrong with him? He knew the answer of course. Indeed, closing his eyes had helped. He started on the first sentence, and then – RIIINNNNGGGGGG

Wait what? The bell? The school bell?? But, it hadn’t even been 15 minutes!

“Alright, you boneheads! You’ve gotten a good long 45 minutes on this test, so you better do better than a C! You hear me? NOW, march out, I don’t want to see more of your sad, sad faces today!” the shrill noise of Coach’s whistle was heard, but all Stiles could do was stare baffled at the page in front of him.

Name and date was all that he had written down besides half of the sentence he had barely started on. Was coach sure he had given them 45 minutes? I protest! Stiles wanted to scream out. Scott passed him by, his test in his hand on his way to hand it to Coach, he looked quite concerned at Stiles. Did Scott do badly? what was that look for? Stiles gave Scott a concerned look back and accepted defeat, shrugged and dragged his limbs out of the chair, filing behind in the line of people handing in their papers.

“Dude, are you okay? Did you fall asleep during the test or something?” Scott and Stiles were walking down the hallway to their lockers and again Scott kept passing Stiles these utterly concerned puppy glances.

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes, throwing one hand out to the side. “Ach! It was one minute, alright? I closed my eyes for like, a second, okay? Coach must have fiddled with the time or something, seriously.”

“Are you really suggesting that Coach has some magical powers over time, cause dude, that’s so not cool.”

“Actually it would have been awesome if Coach was a time traveller or something, but that’s not the point! What I mean is, I did not fall asleep for more than a minute. Maybe five. Uh, maybe seven but certainly not more, okay?!”

Scott threw a side glance at stiles, then started to put his books in his locker, “Did you finish the test? I was so stuck on question 27.”

Stiles scratched at the back of his head violently, then coughed. He didn’t want to tell Scott how much of the test he had completed. Which was, you know, nothing. “Uh, what are you doing tonight?” Stiles said in a much higher pitch than usual, he was trying to distract him, obviously. Not that Scott would ever notice.

“I have to work, sorry.”

“All night?”

“Deaton needs to go on a home visit so I have to take care of the clinic myself and close up and all.”

“Wow, he’s giving you lots of responsibility, huh?” Stiles could practically see how Scott’s eyes twinkled a bit with pride.

“Yeah, he trusts m—uh, dude, you okay?”

Stiles had completely jumped ship on the conversation and was now gawking with his mouth ajar down the hallway. Was that Derek freaking Hale?? No freaking way!

“Stiles?? Hello?” Scott’s face contorted into his now almost constant worry face and glanced down the hallway where Stiles was staring, “you sure you okay?”

“Didn’t you see-” Stiles lowered his voice at the name, “Derek?? He was standing down the hallway, I’m sure he was looking at us, what is he doing here?”

Scott tilted his head to his side in a very dog like manner which usually made Stiles want to laugh, “Stiles, you sure you don’t want to go see the nurse? This is like, the fourth time just this week that you said you’ve seen Derek here at school. I haven’t even heard from Derek in weeks. I think he’s trying to hunt down information for Breaden on the Desert Wolf or something. Seriously, Stiles, you look way too tired and pale, are you certain you’re okay?” Scott’s voice betrayed a much larger portion of worry than was usually healthy for him.

Stiles’ eyes darted over at Scott. Seriously? He thought he was imagining things? That was not okay to joke with. Stiles swallowed and fired back angrily “I’m always pale! I saw Derek, I’m NOT hallucinating!” Shit, he had actually screamed that last part.

Everyone around them froze for a quick second before pulling a bit away from them. Somewhere in the throng of people Stiles was sure he could hear someone mumble “freaks,” and a quick glance at Scott was enough to confirm it.

Narrowing his eyes, he dragged his arms closer to his body again, he had of course, been flailing like crazy while talking, he just couldn’t help it. It was important for Stiles to convey his feelings. And his feelings very pretty strong on this point. He knew how a hallucination was. He quickly glanced down at his fingers. Nope, only five, so it wasn’t a dream either. He felt his chest tighten. In truth Scott’s words were scaring him. “Fine.”

“What?” Scott was taken by surprise and looked utterly confused at his best friend.

“Fiiiiine,” stiles breathed out, “I’ll go to the nurse, see you after lunch break,” his voice was low and he was holding his breath. He needed to get out of here. Oh god, this was a hallucination wasn’t it? But why would he hallucinate Derek? This made no sense, he needed to clear his thoughts, he needed to clear his chest and he needed to breathe!

Turning his back on Scott, leaving his best friend confused and maybe hurt, Stiles almost ran down the hallway feeling more faint by the second and the world felt like it was moving in slow motion. Things could not get more cliché and Stiles definitely did not have time for this, he needed air! He took a right turn and ended up in an empty classroom. There he leaned against the closest desk, trying to get air down his lungs as the door slid shut behind him.

“Stiles? What’s wrong?” A second later Stiles could feel a firm hand on his shoulder, he jolted around, gasping for breath and lost his hold on the desk, falling to the floor. He smacked an arm in Derek’s chest as he fell. It couldn’t get more surreal than this.

Way up there, Derek was staring down at him, his eyebrows knitted together in a questioning and worried look as if he was saying; you okay? without words.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles was sitting with his back against the teacher’s desk. He was still a bit short of breath, but his panic attack was definitely over, thank God. On the other hand, he was completely incredulous as to why Derek, of all people, was doing here. Now that he had his breathing under control, Stiles couldn’t help but do what he did best, which was blurt out with questions: “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me? I’ve seen you a billion times just creeping down the hallways. Are you spying on Scott? Are you spying on me? Why are you creeping on me? Is there something wrong? Did- did I do something wrong?”

Derek simply huffed at him and went to stand by the window, his legs apart and his hands on his back in a very military way. Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how dramatic he insisted on being.

“Scott told me you have been looking sick and tired lately,” Derek didn’t turn around, but he wasn’t using an accusing tone or anything. Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Sick? Oh, come on Derek, I’m always pale!” Stiles scoffed and recited the exact same line he had given Scott, “and looking sick is kind of my thing, you know? Would you stop creeping on me if I got a tan?”

“Scott also told me he was worried you weren’t sleeping and that you didn’t seem to eat much as of late,” Derek turned around and looked Stiles square in the eyes. He trailed down his face, lingered a bit by the dark blue under his eyes then stopped by his clothes which were now a size too big for him.

“So this is the reason why I’ve been seeing you at odd times at school? You’ve been spying on me. You and Scott have been scheming behind my back, Jesus Christ, Derek,” Stiles got to his feet, supporting himself with a hand against the teacher’s desk. Now he was angry, frustrated and angry. How dare they go behind his back like this? “Did you know because of you that I thought I was hallucinating again? Did you know that because you and Scott decided to play the nope-no-Derek-here game, I thought I was losing my mind again?” Stiles threw out with his hand at each sentence, seething with outrage, his voice more piercing each time he drew his breath.

“Stiles,” was all Derek managed to deliver in his defence with his chronically brooding voice, which, right now, made Stiles’ fury worse.

A simple one liner wasn’t good enough for Stiles. He wanted to punch Derek in the face and scream at him what a douchebag he was for doing this to him. Stiles had seriously thought his mind was going again, that he was losing it, losing himself. It angered him that Derek thought it was okay to play mind tricks on him after everything that he’d gone through, and Derek knew about all that. It was too much. He could feel his hands shaking, a new panic attack edging closer. Stiles cursed, trying to keep command over his rebelling body. He stuck his hands under his armpits, hugging himself, and turned his back on Derek. Clenching his eyes, he clung onto his anger at Derek, and that miraculously kept the panic attack at bay. Slowly but surely the panic attack ebbed out, he shook less and less and he breathed more or less normally under the whole process. Well, Stiles thought; that was a first.

Behind Stiles, Derek was still standing over by the window; now that the younger boy couldn’t see him, his eyes were filled with sadness and worry. It looked like he was about to take the few steps he needed to go over to Stiles and comfort him, help him through his pain and calm his attack, but he didn’t. He simply looked away from the boy in front of him as if to avoid looking at his pain.

Stiles turned to Derek again, his eyes still filled with anger and betrayal, “I’m going home,” he announced abruptly and Derek looked taken aback.

“Home?”

“Yes, home. To my bed, so I can sleep. Like you all seem to want me to do so desperately,” Stiles scoffed and started towards the door.

“Stiles.”

“What? What do you want?” Stiles snapped, his hand on the door handle, but he refused to look at Derek.

“Scott wasn’t a part of this. The reason why I’ve been,” Derek stopped and searched for the right word, “looking out for you is, well, I was just worried for you,” Derek breathed out, and the next second again, he walked over and stopped right behind Stiles.

Stiles tensed, he could feel Derek’s gaze fixed on the back of his head and his neck hair stood on end. He felt confused and kind of strange. Why? What the hell was going on? Stiles wondered for a moment if Derek was possessed, and right afterwards he wanted to slap himself for phrasing it like that. Derek was worried for skinny defenceless Stiles, not to mention that he was saying so out loud?

“I was worried he was back, and I didn’t want more horrible things happening to you, I wanted to be prepared. With how you’ve been acting lately, I was worried you were having an episode of, something,” Derek’s voice trailed off at the end, and Stiles could hear the older werewolf cross his arms.

Oh, of course it would come down to that. Derek had been worried for him, Stiles almost wanted to laugh, right yeah. The big strong Hale had been trying to protect him, hah, looking out for him, yeah right. What Derek really meant, was that he had been worried that Stiles was dangerous again, that maybe he needed to take Stiles out of commission, that he was a threat. Maybe he was worried Stiles would go on a killing spree just for fun. Of course mighty Derek Hale couldn’t have the Nogitsune rampaging around. Not that the Nogitsune was back, that is. They had defeated him, he was gone and he wasn’t coming back. No, nope, he wasn’t. Not ever.

Stiles scoffed loudly, and was just about to turn around and scream something offensive right into Derek’s face when Derek beat him to the chase, he didn’t even have time to turn around. “I agree, you should go home and sleep,” he tossed the words out as if the previous conversation didn’t happen. “I’ll follow you to your Jeep.”

Stiles stood rooted to the floor, his fingernails digging into the skin on his palms. He could feel the fury in his chest nearing the boiling point, “You going to follow me home too? Going to make sure I get a good night’s rest, Derek? Going to tuck me in, maybe read me a bedtime story? Are you going to make sure that I stay there and don’t wander off to maybe grab a knife to slit someone’s throat?”

“That’s not what I said,” Derek brushed up beside him, glowering down with his trademark scowl and his eyebrows contorted and he looked towards the door  handle.

“I don’t want you to follow me home,” Stiles pointed out and opened the door, trying to indicate the conversation was over; he threw an equally angry glare up at Derek. Stiles harrumphed loudly and didn’t bother with holding the door open for him.

“Okay,” Derek simply nodded, but he followed Stiles out.

“And I don’t want you stalking me at school anymore, and I don’t want you to follow me now either,”

“I’m just going to walk you to your Jeep.”

“Well, I said I didn’t want you to.”

Derek didn’t answer and he didn’t look over at Stiles again. There were barely anyone in the hallways currently, Stiles guessed most of them were either in the cafeteria or outside, hopefully not outside; he didn’t want to be seen together with this brute more than necessary.

Stiles glared at Derek again, willing him to leave him alone. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, taking longer strides down the hallway, trying to leave Derek behind. Derek had no trouble keeping up with him, which made Stiles just even more annoyed, but he kept his mouth shut until they got outside. Half jogging by now to his Jeep, Stiles was waiting for Derek to break off and go his separate way. But Derek didn’t break off from Stiles, and when Stiles could see his Jeep he also saw why. Derek’s car was parked next to his.

Stiles couldn’t help but groan out loud in exasperation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I'm so sorry for a very late update!  
> I am getting this fic proofread for my own benefit so I can improve my writing, so that comes first.  
> The next few chapters will be updated regularily however, since they are ready~
> 
> Thanks for being patient.


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright, this is me, bye Derek, have a nice day,” Stiles practically chirped, his voice dripping with annoyance and sarcasm. Finally he was going to get rid of Derek.

Walking up to his precious light blue Jeep, he dragged his hand along her hood and sighed. Reaching down for his keys, he mumbled something to himself and suddenly stopped what he was doing. All of a sudden he could feel a wave of tiredness wash over him. Wow, he hadn’t really noticed that before now. He blinked a couple times as he brought the keys out from his pocket and fumbled with them against the lock. A strange tingling sensation coursed up the back of his neck.

“I said leave me alone Derek,” Stiles scoffed, his anger rising again.

Derek didn’t answer and Stiles whirled angrily around, only to find Derek right in his face. Seriously! Personal space? Stiles thought Derek was the King of personal space, so what was he doing invading his? Stiles could feel his voice hitch in his throat and he pressed himself up against his Jeep, his eyes shifting around the yard. Luckily no one was watching as Derek took a step closer.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just want to make sure you understand,” Derek said, Stiles could see a kind of sincere sorrow and pain in his eyes, but right now he simply didn’t care.

“Yeah well, next time maybe tap me gently on my shoulder? And try backing up a couple steps, thank you very much,” he made a small shooing motion with the hand he was holding the keys in, but Derek didn’t budge. Stiles could feel his face going red.

“No, I meant before, I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I was just worried.”

And there it was again, Derek's worry. Stiles narrowed his eyes in anger once more. He didn’t believe him. Stiles couldn’t understand why Derek would worry about him in the first place. So instead of just nodding and moving on Stiles took to the offensive. “Yeah? That’s the problem with you, Derek. You didn’t think, as usual! You didn’t think your plan through at all. Sure, stalking me at school must have seem like a great plan to make sure I stayed out of trouble, but you didn’t think to maybe inform Scott what you were up to? Maybe have Scott help you with it. But no, you didn’t think! You should have considered that maybe I am still worried that there is something of him in me, that sometimes it feels like my mind isn’t my own at times. He screwed me over, okay? And I will never forgive myself for letting it happen, so can you just,” Stiles’ hands trembled and he grabbed at his hair for something to hold him steady, “can’t you just leave me alone? Everything that happened is my fault, Allison and Aiden are dead, so of course I’m not feeling well, what did you think I was going to do, just smile and carry on like nothing happened? It feels like it all happened just last week, and they’re all dead because of me! A lot of people are dead because of me! And all the people around me are pretending like nothing of this is my fault. I can still see the pain in Scott’s eyes, or in Lydia’s. I know the reason Isaac left. It’s all my fault, it’s because of me. I’ve been trying to smile and pretend like nothing happened ever since we defeated him, but it just makes everything feel ten times worse. Of course I’m taking it personally, I might have defeated him physically, but it still feels like he’s there sometimes, you know? And I can’t bear that…” the last few words came out in a loud sob.

The school bell had called all the students back from lunch during his tirade, and once he was finished they were all alone in the parking lot. Stiles could feel his knees wobble and he slid down the side of his Jeep. His energy was spent and he just wanted to curl up and sleep forever. StIles could feel Derek's eyes on him, and a couple of big, strong hands grabbed at his shoulders and kept him from sliding to the ground.

“I- I didn’t know… Stiles, you do know he’s gone right?” Derek looked into Stiles' eyes concerned and worried, but Stiles had his eyes pressed closed, refusing to look back at him.

Stiles hadn’t told anyone how he felt, not even Scott or Malia. It had happened a while ago now, but it was all too fresh in Stiles' mind. He had been trying his best to push all memories about the Nogitsune far into the back of his head, and then the whole Benefactor business happened so he had been all sorts of distracted to barely think about it anymore.  

Stiles heaved for breath after another sob escaped his lips, but it felt good getting all of this off his chest. It felt good to let it all out, but who would have thought he would be telling Derek freaking Hale of all people first? He had always imagined him blurting this out to Scott one evening when they were studying, in the safety of his own bedroom, not in the school parking lot with a guy like Derek. Stiles gulped in a few more mouthfuls of air and opened his eyes, staring up into Derek’s scruffy face.

“N-no… I didn’t want anyone to worry, I-“

“You’re the idiot here, Stiles. It doesn’t help keeping everything sealed away; sometimes you need to let things off your mind.” Derek cut Stiles off. Now it was his turn to look angry, although a stranger wouldn’t be able to tell the new expression apart from the old.

“Hah! Off my mind, nice choice of words.”

“Stiles, that’s—“

“That’s not what you meant, yeah, I know. I guess you know this from your own experience, huh??”

“Actually I do.”

“O-oh…” Crap, right, memories came crashing down on Stiles. Half a mangled body in the woods, Scott getting bitten, the discovery in Derek’s backyard. Shit, in his backyard! Stiles then understood. “Laura…”

“Not just Laura, Stiles,” Derek sighed loudly, it looked like talking about this hurt him, maybe just talking in general was hurting him.

“Derek, I’m so sorry.” All of his anger left his body, seeping downwards and escaping through his toes, which now felt ice cold.

Derek let go of Stiles' arms abruptly, Stiles looked at him confused. He guessed Derek would spill everything to him now. About how he hurt, how he missed his sisters, how losing most of his family in that fire affected him, the part dear Uncle Peter played in all this. Indeed, dear Uncle Peter…

“I should go, you need to sleep."

Wait, really? Derek was going to leave him hanging? How could he give him such a cliffhanger? Just cutting their conversation short like that: Not just Laura, Stiles? What was that about? Stiles felt slightly offended, and suddenly extremely curious. However, Stiles didn’t even have time to start interrogating Derek before the werewolf had inched his head close and brushed his lips gently against Stiles cheek, extremely close to his mouth. Actually, almost on his mouth. Pulling back, Derek looked at Stiles bewildered and sort of lost, before he took off towards his car as quickly as he could.

Stiles stared straight ahead completely dumbfounded. Wait, what? He didn’t seem able to process what had just happened. Did Derek just? He was so confused. Stiles blinked once, twice. He could feel his whole body going numb, and warm, and strangely itchy. He blinked again and turned to stare after Derek, who was now sprinting down the street- he hadn’t even bothered to get in his car; the guy was just running like his life depended on it.

“Wow…” Stiles let his breath out slowly. His whole body was in uproar, he dropped his keys without noticing, his body slumped against his car, and his legs felt like jelly. What had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting some action up in here!  
> Hope you all enjoy~


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was in a state of complete shock. Derek had kissed him, for real. Yes, well, it had been on the cheek, but again, Derek. Had. Kissed. HIM. It had been so close to his mouth, Stiles could almost taste his lips still. Wow. Stiles was in a daze to say the least.

Stiles was sitting in his Jeep on his way home. He picked up the phone and called Scott, placing his phone in the passenger seat, set on speaker. Scott was probably in class by now, but he knew the guy never turned his phone off. Hopefully Scott had made up some lie of why Stiles had left.

“Stiles?” Scott’s voice came crackling from the other end after a long, beeping silence.

“Hey, Scott, uh, got a minute?”

“Where are you, you just left me hanging, man, why aren’t you in class?” Stiles could hear his friend walking into one of the schools bathrooms on the other end.  

“Uh, I didn’t feel well, um, I’m on my way home right now, thought I’d take a nap, but, uh, Scott...” Stiles did not know how to word this, but he needed to talk to someone or he thought he might burst.

“Oh, okay, that’s good. Anything wrong though? You sound strange,” Stiles cringed, he could practically hear Scott wrinkle his nose and tilt his head on the other end.

Stiles stayed quiet for a long time, mulling over how to word his current predicament, then: “Derek kissed me.” Might as well cut straight to the chase, right?

There was complete silence on the other end. Stiles focused on the road ahead. He was coming around a bend. The trees stood tall on his right side. The leaves were coloured orange by the sun which hung so high on the sky. It really was a beautiful day out. There was not another vehicle on the road, there usually weren’t many who drove this way at this time of day. He could feel the gravel spinning under his tyres and all the bumps in the road that should have been fixed years ago. The familiar sound of the engine comforted him, it coughed now and then to break the silence.

“Scott, you there sti-"

On the other end, interrupting him rudely, Stiles could hear a loud bark of laughter.

"Oy!" Stiles more or less hissed. The nerve! “This isn’t a joke!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Scott stammered on the other end, but he was still crowing deep in his throat. “It’s just that, wow. Derek? He- You sure?”

“Yes!” Stiles responded with a quick glare towards his phone.

On the other end, Stiles could hear Scott chuckling quietly for himself. Stiles thought his friend found this way too amusing; he was basically giggling like a preschooler! Did he know something? Was this the day where everyone knew everything but Stiles?

They both kept quiet for a while as Stiles parked in his driveway, his tyres screaming sadly. He probably needed to send his beloved Jeep to a service soon, again, if he could afford it. He had tinkered way too much on her lately, but none of his inferior skills had helped. It was getting old, but it was his, and he was never abandoning it.

“So,” came a sly voice over his phone as Stiles picked it up.

“So,” Stiles responded darkly, he was worried for the tone in Scott’s voice.

“So, you and Derek, huh?”

“No, ugh! Scott!” Stiles moaned loudly, hitting his head against the steering wheel, making no motion to get out of his car. “He kissed me, completely out of the blue! Growly, scowly Derek Hale, kissed me.”

“How was it?”

Stiles gaped, his words caught in his throat. He pondered the question for a bit, he hadn’t really thought about that. The shock had been devouring most of his thoughts. “Actually, pretty dry,” Stiles stated bluntly.

Scott started cackling.

“It’s not funny! It was kind of surreal actually. We should probably give him some chap stick or something. Not to mention his stubble brushing against my skin was totally weird, like giving my dad a hug, Scott! OH MY GOD, stop laughing!” Stiles could feel his insides deflating, this was so embarrassing! Getting laughed at by the Romance Queen himself. Uugh.

“Sorry, man, I’m so sorry, I’m just picturing it.”

“Oh, I bet you are! Keep your dirty mind to yourself, how did I get in this situation? I'm so screwed.”

“Is that the plan?”

“SCOTT! Oh, my, G- um, no? Not right now?” wait, what? What was he saying? Not right now? Jesus, he was considering it, he was picturing it. Suddenly the air felt really hot around him.

Stiles swallowed hard, took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of his car. When did Scott get so snarky by the way? “What do I do now?” Stiles moaned in agony, walking up to his front door.

“Well, do you like him back?”

That question left Stiles completely speechless. Did he like Derek? Did he think about him in that way? He brought the keys to the lock, but his mind was focused on Derek. Derek’s deep-set eyes, hiding there under his angry, bushy eyebrows. Derek who had seen enough pain to last a lifetime. His extremely muscular body, his perfect hair and – Stiles dropped the keys to the ground. Derek’s ass! Stiles went red as a lobster as he reached down to pick up his keys, standing a bit wide legged, he felt pretty strange right now. Yeah, why not? Maybe he did like him in that way. He just hadn’t realized before now, what with his anger towards Derek for always being so grumpy. But in a way that was cute too, which was so frustrating! What even was life?

He bumped his head against the door and let his forehead rest against it. Derek had always seemed so, there was no other word to describe it, constipated and angry, but it had always been directed at him. But in reality Derek had been shy? Okay, mind blown, no, that couldn’t be true, he was making stuff up for sure. Right..? But at the same time, it kind of made sense?

“Has he always liked me?” Stiles asked, his voice a whisper.

Scott chuckled on the other end but remained silent.

“Oh my God,” Stiles grumbled into the receiver, which just made Scott chuckle harder.

They both stayed quiet for a while again as he reached down to pick up his keys. Stiles leaned back, glaring at the door in front of him.

“But ugh, this is so complicated, because I’m kind of together with Malia still, right?” Wasn't he? Stiles frowned, he was questioning it. He and Malia had been drifting apart lately. She had started to hang out more with the girls. The two of them barely hung out anymore. Malia was being distant to him and Stiles of course, had grabbed the opportunity to become even more of a recluse. He did miss the safe feeling of her nearby at night though, but that was also pretty much it. A sigh escaped past his lips and he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for a kind of strange end here, but i split chapter 4 in two, so i'll be quick about next chapter seeing as that's a bit short~


	5. Chapter 5

Behind him Stiles could hear something crunch against the gravel. His eyebrows contorted in suspicion and he turned around to look.

It was probably just an animal or a bird, right?

The next thing Stiles knew, he was lying face first in the gravel, his ears ringing. The something he had heard had struck him hard over the head. Stiles winced as he got to his feet a bit disoriented and he turned around quickly. Too quickly in fact and he fell against his door, clutching onto the handle to keep himself steady. Stiles tried to focus as the man in front of him sneered menacingly. A few drops of blood flecked the ground next to where Stiles’ phone was lying. He could hear Scott shout something, but he couldn’t make out what he said.

“Thick-headed, are we?” a man came into Stiles’ vision, and an arm pressed painfully up against his throat.

Stiles gasped for air and clawed at the man’s arm, whom was smiling at him with obvious glee. Where had this guy come from? This was way too sudden for Stiles to put up any semblance of defence or resistance. Stiles had never been very strong either, and this was way too surreal.

“No- s-stho- p,” Stiles wheezed, his feet kicking and his body thrashing, he could barely breathe.

A short, pained yell wrangled itself out of his throat when he saw the man pull out a syringe and bring it towards his neck. He struggled for dear life, but Stiles wasn’t getting enough oxygen to his brain to be able to fight him. He was completely powerless as the needle pierced his skin.

It didn’t take long for the drug to work, and somehow the feeling felt familiar. The man let go of Stiles and stepped back, snickering quietly to himself. What had just happened? Stiles felt so scared and confused. Adrenaline was coursing through his body and he still had problems breathing from his harsh treatment. He slid down the side of the front door, his head pounding and he gasped desperately for breath. He looked up at the man who was just standing there, not even watching him anymore, but rather staring at the road. Stiles eyed an opening. He gathered himself to sprint down the driveway, however Stiles head was too fuzzy, and all he did was flop helplessly forwards before he even managed to take a step, the drug taking hold of him. He reached out with a trembling hand, trying to crawl his way to freedom. His head felt warm and his eyesight misty. Everything around him blurred and multiplied. As he crawled, some blood got in his eyes and he tried to blink it away desperately. His vision started swimming and his brain literally felt like mush, the drug was pulling him under, but Stiles knew he needed to fight it.

Stiles kept on crawling for several, painful minutes, every breath feeling like his last.

He registered tyres screeching against gravel and a car came into the side of his vision. A surprised noise left Stiles as he saw several men in scrubs walking towards him. No, no, no! This couldn’t be real, not now, not now! Stiles looked away and kept on crawling. He could hear laughter on all sides; it was piercing his ears and he was unable to block it out.

“He never did leave you, did he?” a sudden voice sounded out right besides Stiles’ ear.

Stiles clenched his eyes shut and his whole body went numb. His voice was like doom in Stiles’ ears. It chilled him to his bones and scared him beyond anything he could ever have imagined. Stiles had thought he was safe. He had thought he would never have to hear that voice again. He never wanted to go back to that place. That damned place with that awful man and those tiled, stark white walls. He was going to be dragged back kicking and screaming and he knew that this time, this time they were not letting him out.

Stiles covered his ears, he could feel his hands shaking like leaves, and he tried to block the voice out. It just couldn’t be him. That man was dead, he was dead! Dead! He had seen him get shot in front of his own eyes! Screams stirred inside of Stiles head, not his own, other people’s screams, loud screams which mixed with the laughter. Together they were pounding against his skull. Stiles covered his head with his arms and screamed too, curling up on the ground, “You’re dead!”

“Oh Stiles, does anyone really stay dead in Beacon Hills?”

Stiles could feel his heart miss a beat, miss a lot of beats. It felt like his heart had stopped working completely. “You’re dead,” he whispered.

Strong, cold hands reached down and pried his own arms away from his head. “Look at me, Stiles, and you will see this is all real. I’m not going to die as long as you’re around. You’re too dangerous, Stiles. Too dangerous to be alive, but I can fix that.”

“NO!” Stiles screamed again, thrashing against the icy hands clamped around his wrists, but it was impossible to resist.

Slowly, but surely Stiles was pulled around so he was face to face with one of his worst nightmares. Stiles trashed and cried and tried to get away, but he wasn’t strong enough, he had never been strong enough.

“Shush, Stiles, I’ll make everything better, how does trephination sound? I’ve also heard you’re a big fan of ice baths, we can arrange that. Or maybe-” Stiles could hear a tearing sound, then something breaking, then everything went numb. Something wet and cold splashed onto Stiles’ face. It was sticky and tasted of metal and with a rushing sound, all energy left him, he felt detached from his own body as it went cold due to the sudden absence of blood. Stiles fumbled with a hand towards his sternum, he could barely feel his hand anymore, but what scared him more was that he couldn’t feel his chest, he merely grasped onto air. His chest wasn’t there anymore, his ribs had been torn away to reveal his insides. His chest had been ripped open.

“Maybe we should remove the problem permanently?”

Standing above Stiles was Brunski, he was clutching something round and slimy, which was dripping red down on Stiles’ hoodie. Stiles screamed again while the madman laughed above him, clutching Stiles’ heart in his hand with the wildest and most spine-chilling grin Stiles had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is that I'm so sorry for the cliffhanger.  
> And that next chapter might be a while.
> 
> I'm also sorry if you thought this was all going to be cute and fluff. It's not.  
> Questions? Concerns? Follow me on tumblr quco.tumblr.com  
> I'll also be posting a taste of next chapter next week there~


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles’ head was pounding. Why did his head hurt so much? He groaned. He was clenching his eyes shut and his heart was beating heavy in his chest. He was scared for some reason. He didn’t want to look at his surroundings. The ground beneath him jostled and he slid backwards a bit. An earthquake? No that didn’t make sense. It didn’t feel like an earthquake. Stiles opened one eye ever so slightly. He could see the faint outlines of a wall in front of him made out of metal and the ground jostled him again. He was in a car. Well, that explained the humming noise.

Stiles tried to reach out and put a soothing hand on his aching head when he realized he couldn’t. His hands were solidly secured behind his back. It was the familiar feel of sturdy, leather restraints that sent Stiles’ pulse racing. Oh no.

“Stiles, good to see you joining the world of the living again, I was hoping you would wake up.”

Stiles swallowed hard and froze, trying not to move a muscle. He shut his eyes as tight as he could, trying not to make a sound, to pretend like he was sleeping. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. I’m dreaming. I’m just dreaming. This isn’t real.

“What’s the matter, Stiles? You’re not scared are you? Oh, you are scared,” a hand brushed up Stiles’ shoulder which made him flinch immediately.

Of course he was scared. The vision he had had right before he got knocked out by the drugs, which Stiles guessed was Haldol, had scared him out of his wits. Or, he thought it was a vision, most of it at least. He remembered back to Brunski holding his heart in his hand, him squeezing it, pieces flying everywhere. Stiles winced. He had thought it was real. It had felt so real.

Oh God, oh no. Stiles retched, but managed to keep his stomach down. Nope, this wasn’t real either... Was it? Stiles refused to believe it. Hadn’t he been through enough now? Hadn’t he had enough bad luck for a whole life time? Did the universe really think he was such a bad person, and all these bad things were justified? A scared sob escaped Stiles lips and he fought against his bonds.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Stiles. You know you shouldn’t struggle,” the familiar voice rang out as a foot stepped down on his side, holding him in place.

“No, you’re dead, I saw you die, this is just another hallucination, or dream, or something very, very unfair, but you’re dead,” Stiles could feel his body shaking in terror. He had a slight idea as to where Brunski was taking him, and he did not like it.

“Oh, Stiles. Did you think a simple bullet would stop me? I’m not finished with you, Stiles,” the pressure from the foot increased against Stiles’ ribs.

“But I saw you die,” Stiles gasped out. He tried to shift his body to get away from Brunski, but to no avail; he could barely move an inch from the pressure.

“You thought you saw me die, and your young deputy friend really made it easy for me. Don’t worry though, Stiles. I’m taking you home to where you belong.”

Stiles broke down sobbing. He didn’t want to go back there, not to Eichen House. Everywhere but that deranged mental institution. “No,” he sobbed, “anywhere but there, I’d rather you killed me, why are you doing this?”

“Why? Because I think, and you know, that he’s still there, deep down.”

The blood in Stiles' veins froze to ice, he stopped struggling and crying and just stared at the metal wall in front of him. How did Brunski know about the Nogitsune? He hadn’t known last time, he was sure of it, he was certain Brunski didn’t know, he couldn’t know.

“Fox got your tongue, Stiles? You’re so predictable. Of course I know about him, you were mine for quite a while, you know. Don’t think I didn’t see what you did last time we had a nice chat. I saw how strong you really are. I saw your eyes. The eyes of a killer.”

“No! I’m not a killer, he made me do it! It wasn’t me!”

Brunski laughed, a cold, dead sound, “that’s exactly what a mental patient would say, Stiles. You’re making my job easy! You really think that defence is going to help you?”

Stiles face contorted, his lip quivered and once again he gasped for breath as Brunski increased the weight on his ribs, “I’m not a killer, I didn’t mean to do any of it, I didn’t want to do any of it. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Are you sure though? Are you sure it wasn’t your fault?”

Stiles clenched his eyes shut and once again he could feel himself holding onto the handle of a katana, the other end lodged into his best friend’s abdomen. Stiles slid his fingers up and down the handle caressing the blade, giving Scott a menacing, evil grin. He could see his own face reflected in his best friend’s terrified eyes. _“You really have to learn not to trust a fox.”_

It was Stiles’ fault. Stiles had let the Nogitsune in. Stiles had let the Nogitsune take him over. Stiles had let him wreak its havoc. Stiles had let the Nogitsune take his body and his face. Stiles had let it kill all those people. Their blood was on Stiles’ hands. Of course he blamed himself, it’s the reason he wasn’t sleeping much, why he barely ate. Stiles hadn’t been strong enough. It was Stiles’ fault that so many people were dead, and those thoughts were smothering him. He didn’t want to think about it, all those dead faces haunting him. He was living in a real nightmare unable to wake up this time.

“That’s right Stiles. It is your fault,” Brunski’s voice was filled with joy over Stiles’ suffering.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered into the floor of the car.

“Is that a confession, Stiles?”

Stiles sobbed loudly, tears spilled down his cheeks, he could feel the pressure lifting from his side, and Brunski rolled him over so he could look at his face. Stiles could feel his bound hands digging painfully into his back, but he didn’t bother moving them to a more comfortable position, not that he was able to. The next moment, Brunski stepped down on Stiles’ chest, increasing the weight quickly and intensely. Brunski’s face was deformed into a wicked smile.

Stiles’ breath came in short wheezes, he tried to gasp for air, tried to swallow it down and keep it there, but the crushing sensation on his chest just got worse, forcing all air out of his lungs.

Then the stress got too much, his chest couldn’t take it anymore. Stiles could hear the sickening sound of his ribs cracking and breaking and the next second his lungs caved in. He wanted to scream, writhe in pain and scream his lungs out, but he was unable to. He didn’t have lungs anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all i can say is that I'm oh so sorry.  
> And wow, poor, poor Stiles, um...
> 
> Next chapter will be a while, expect me to update some time late May, I have exams I need to focus on.  
> Hope you enjoy this bone shattering chapter~


	7. Chapter 7

With a yell, Stiles woke up. He was bathed in sweat. He stared at the darkness in front of him and gasped for breath, trying to calm down. He looked down at his chest in panic, but it was whole. There was no foot on his chest, and more importantly, there was no foot in his chest. Stiles let a terrified, shaky sob escape him; it had all been a dream after all.

Outside, however, Stiles could still hear the soft hum of an engine running. His wrists were still bound behind his back with thick leather handcuffs. And he was still lying in the back of a van in pitch darkness. Everything was similar to his dream, except... Stiles turned his head, squinting around in the darkness and strained his ears for the smallest indication there was another person in there with him. Stiles was jostled slightly from a bump in the road, he couldn't hear or see anyone.

Swallowing hard, Stiles closed his eyes and felt his heart slow down slightly inside his chest. Maybe Brunski hadn’t been real. Maybe, he hoped so, God, he hoped so. Brunski was dead, right?

Stiles wondered how much after he had gotten attacked had been real and what had just been hallucinations. Everything? Nothing of it? Was he really on his way to Eichen House? Stiles thoughts were on high gear trying to figure out how to get out of his current situation and why he was in this mess in the first place. In reality, Stiles was hoping there was a supernatural reason, because the thought that he might be taken back to Eichen House was the scariest scenario he could imagine, and now it was reality.

The tyres underneath him came to an abrupt screeching halt which sent Stiles hard into the wall in front of him. "Oh God, oh God," what was going to happen next? What were they going to do with him? Where were here even? Stiles was so scared and his heart was racing inside his chest.

Outside, Stiles could hear voices talking together in muffled tones, he felt like vomiting. Why couldn't he just wake up? That would be perfect right now. Please, wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!

"Oy! He's awake, I thought you said that stuff would keep him out for hours.” Two men stood framed in the doors by the sudden sunlight. Stiles could only make out their silhouettes; the sun was too low in the sky, and the sudden transition from dark to light made Stiles squint.

The other man grumbled something incoherent, and someone grabbed onto Stiles' ankle. Anger and fright shot through Stiles. He let out a panicked sound and he tried kicking the hand away. His foot missed its target however, and he was forcefully dragged out of the van, landing on the ground outside with a loud thud.

Stiles gasped for air as one of them kicked him hard in the stomach. “Don’t try struggling, kid, It’ll be a lot worse if you do.”

Stiles retched and curled up as best he could in the dirt. A moment later he was pulled forcefully onto his feet by his bound hands.  His shoulders hurt from the forced position and he was still short of breath. He wanted to look up, to see his captors in the eyes. to see if he recognized them, but he was forced down on his knees again and a strong hand tugged his head downwards.

“Alright, give him the sedative again, I’m not going to drag him through the forest awake,” the one standing to the side of Stiles said.

“Right,” the other behind him replied, and miraculously, he let go of Stiles.

Stiles swallowed hard. His neck hair was standing on end. He could feel that neither of the two were watching him at this exact moment. So Stiles did the only sensible thing. He ran for it. Stiles threw himself forwards in a sudden burst, managed to roll himself up onto his feet and sprinted for his dear life. He could hear them yell behind him, but he had a good head start now. He was not going to let himself be captured again.

He was somewhere in the Beacon preserve, that much Stiles could tell, but the trees were unfamiliar and towering high above him. The sun was hanging low in the sky in front of him. It was awkward to run with his hands behind his back and he stumbled more than once. Luckily he managed to keep himself on his feet. He could hear the men shout behind him again, gaining on him, and Stiles sped up, trampling through the forest, crunching leaves and dead branches under his heavy steps.

Stiles had been running for several minutes by now, his breath went fast and he gasped to get as much air as he could manage down his lungs, when the world suddenly disappeared underneath him. A surprised whine escaped him and he tumbled down into the emptiness. A sickening crunch was heard as Stiles bounced off of hard stone and he continued falling further down the cliff side, slamming hard into the ground below.

 

 

Stiles woke up with a startled gasp. Everything hurt, his lungs hurt when he drew breath. He tried coughing, but that only made it worse. With a soft groan Stiles opened his eyes. His vision was blurry at first and the first thing he noticed was the sun just starting to set below the horizon. He must have been out for a while. Oh Christ, he hurt so badly. He tried getting to his feet, a few dead, but moist leaves stuck to his face.

"He's down there!"

Stiles groaned out in agony. His whole body was throbbing. He just wanted to lie down and pass out again, but he eyed his captors starting to make their way down the cliff he had fallen from. He had to get away. He tried to get to his feet again, to roll onto his side so he could run once more. It took every bit of willpower Stiles had to not scream out. With shaking breath he glanced over at his leg. Stiles swallowed hard and let his head fall down on the soft ground again. Now he had no chance of escaping, his leg was broken. It was sprawled out in an odd angle and he was sure he could see bone sticking out beneath his bloodied pants.

An old nightmare played through Stiles' head. A bandaged man, himself cold and scared in a basement somewhere. A steel trap around his leg. So much blood. Right now, his leg could just as well have been caught in a trap, because he could see no way out of this situation. He would not be able to run, he wouldn't even be able to walk. It was over. Stiles resigned himself to his fate.

Along with the memory of his old nightmare Stiles remembered another memory, buried deep inside him. He could remember a happier time when he was little, he and Scott were climbing trees when he had lost his footing and fallen down.

 

_Scott..._

 

Stiles broke down sobbing. Tears trickled down his face and he couldn't stop them from falling, nor did he want to. He wondered if Scott was on his trail. Maybe Scott would burst out from the trees at any moment with his werewolf face on and save him. Stiles clenched his eyes tight. Oh, how he wished that would happen. But no, he could hear two pairs of feet land on the ground beneath the cliff and approach him. It was hopeless.

"Well you seem comfy.” The two men who had kidnapped him were standing above him, staring down at his tears and his leg. A dark glee lit their eyes. Stiles glared angrily about at them.

One of them laughed, "well, you'll be a lot easier to handle now. Knock him out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHA yes!  
> I got another chapter up in between studying~  
> I hope you enjoy this one, it's starting to turn pretty dark.  
> I've now got the entire plot figured out from top to bottom, including every little detail, so the rest should be a breeze~ 
> 
> Also gotta thank my beta reader, she's so fast and corrects all my sloppy mistakes.  
> Next chapter might still be a while, I got exams again on the 20th, so i still have studies to do that takes precedence.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, hello. I'm sorry, the next update took me quite a bit longer than expected. I have several excuses, but that just sounds shitty of me, so let me just apologise! I'M REALLY SORRY. 
> 
> To make up for it, have an extra long chapter from Derek's POV.  
> Next chapter is actually finished already too, which will also be pretty long and more action filled, and coming out next week, THAT'S A PROMISE.
> 
> This chapter haven't been beta'd yet. I'll update it once it has, but I really wanted to give this out as soon as I could!  
> Sorry again, now, I hope you'll enjoy~

The low hum of the engine filled the air as Derek made his way back to his loft, however he was barely paying attention to the road. All he could hear was his blood rushing through his body and the loud and frantic beat of his own heart against his ribcage. He tried to keep the car straight on its path, but he didn’t have much feeling in his limbs. His whole body was numb and his mind was slightly tingly.

Derek swallowed hard and tried to shake away his thoughts and keep his eyes on the road, but it was so difficult to focus. All these emotions swirling around inside his body, muddling up his mind and making him feel so strange. He hadn’t had these feelings since, well, since before the fire when- No, he didn’t want to think about _her_ , Derek wanted to forget everything about that, that _monster_. Derek closed his eyes briefly and thought about another woman who had been in his life recently, one who was probably on the other side of the world right now, pursuing her old obsession. Derek had to admit, his feelings for Braeden didn’t come close to what he felt now, for Stiles.

A loud honk from a car horn made Derek open his eyes in time to notice that he was in the wrong lane, and quickly veered to the right to avoid a collision. What an idiot he was! Closing his eyes while driving, what was he thinking?

 

Ten minutes later Derek drove into a parking spot about two blocks down from his loft. He never parked close to his own place and never in the same place twice. Old habits die hard. Or maybe the phrase; you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, would be more appropriate? Great, he thought, he was definitely losing it, dog jokes of all things. He was starting to sound like… Stiles… huh..

Derek got out of his car, shut the door and hit the lock button on his keys as he started to go over the day’s events for the hundredth time. He was such an idiot! He wondered what Stiles thought of him now, the boy was right, he had been acting like a complete stalker. He needed to apologise to him, try to explain. Use his _words_ for once. He wondered if Stiles would understand. From Stiles reaction he doubted he reciprocated Derek’s feelings. He could still see Stiles’ face fresh in his mind after Derek had, you know… The look of utter shock, or maybe that had been disgust? He didn’t blame him if that was true. Derek wouldn’t have liked it either if someone had approached him like that without asking his permission.

The worst part was that Derek had been such a coward. After he had… done that… to Stiles, he had taken off down the road and hid in the shadows of the school building until the school bell had rung for the last recess of the day. Stiles had taken his jeep and left long ago by then, but it wasn’t until the bell had rung that Derek had picked up his courage, if you could call it that, and had hurried back to his car. He could remember himself walking like a zombie, opening the door to his car and getting in.

It had taken him almost fifteen minutes before he had realized the route he was on was taking him to Stiles’ house. Fear had welled up in him and he had taken a sharp U-turn.

 

Derek shook himself and tried to clear his head as he realized he was still standing beside his car with the keys in his hands, his finger still pressing heavily down on the lock button. Clearing his throat, Derek put his keys in his pocket and silently slunk towards his loft apartment, desperately trying to focus his mind on what he wanted for dinner. Every time, however, his mind refocused on Stiles. The soft look he got in his eyes when he was sad, which had been a lot lately, always when he thought no one was looking. The small twitch he got on the side of his mouth when he pulled off a witty remark, and the way he would lick his lips when he was upset or thinking. He wondered how Stiles’ hair felt like, it would probably be really soft if he didn’t put that much hair gel in it. Seriously, Stiles excessive use of hair gel was obviously a cover for how badly he was taking care of himself, it was obvious in his whole demeanour. Even his shirts were starting to get too big for him. Sure, Scott had told Derek how run down Stiles had been looking lately, but in Derek’s eyes, Stiles was close to giving up on himself and it scared Derek how close to the edge Stiles really was.

Derek stopped outside his door with a frustrated sigh and leaned his shoulder against the wall as he fumbled with the keys, but at the same moment a familiar smell hit him. He drew in a lungful of air through his nose and without effort he recognized who it belonged to; Scott. Scott had been by his apartment smelling of anxiety and fear, the strong emotions tore at his nostrils and Derek’s furrowed brow sunk deeper over his eyes. What had Scott been doing here?

When he got in, Derek sat down on his bed and pulled out his phone, looking at his screen he could see two missed calls labelled; ‘Scott’. Reluctant to call back, Derek sent Scott a message instead. He really was in no mood to speak with him right now. He ignored the little voice in the back of his mind reminding him of the emotional state Scott had been in, but he told himself it was just teenage business and nothing really important.

_‘What do you want?’_

Derek hit send and without noticing he started to write a new message to another person. He needed to explain himself, he owed Stiles that much.

_‘Stiles, I want to explain._

_I’m so sorry.’_

Derek shook his head, he had hit send without wanting to. Stiles would just be angrier at him with that short a message. But how could he express himself on just a tiny phone screen?

_‘Can we talk?_

_Is it okay if I call?’_

Derek hit send again, his pulse starting to raise slightly. No, he didn’t dare call him. He couldn’t bring himself to do it and in a quick motion Derek got to his feet and made his way over to the small kitchen area. His mother had always made him a cup of tea if he was upset when he was little, it helped calm his nerves. Maybe he’d be able to think more clearly afterwards.

He filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove before he made his way towards the fridge. Derek always used milk in his tea, which was also something he had from his mother. He opened the fridge, pulled the carton out and looked at the expiry date. Last week, perfect. When had he been to the store last? He couldn’t remember, he had been spending way too much time watching over Stiles. Dear God, he really was a stalker.

He put the milk back in the fridge with a sigh and leaned against the kitchen counter to pick out his choice flavour from the tea box. As he rummaged through it for the last bag of chamomile, his favourite, his thoughts tracked off again and he found himself once more thinking about Stiles. He could remember how scared and tired his eyes had looked right before the kiss, and how caring they had been while they talked about Derek’s family. Stiles was really the only person who understood him when it came down to it.

Derek let out a soft whine as he thought about that tragically bad kiss. Stiles lips had been so red, so tempting, but he had been too much of a coward and awkwardly given him a peck on the cheek instead. He wondered what Stiles’ lips actually tasted like. He wondered if he was okay, he would give anything to be with him right now, holding his arms around him protectively as he slept combing his fingers through Stiles’ hair, and Derek realized; he was actually in love, wasn’t he? Derek whipped out his phone again and started typing those three crazy words.

_‘I love you.’_

But he didn’t dare send it. He couldn’t, it would just make things ten times worse. He frantically tried to delete the text, but accidentally managed to send a small part of it.

_‘Ii l_

_’_

Including some blank space for good measure, perfect. Again Derek felt that a fist to the face would be appropriate and he started typing something else.

_‘If you’re mad at me, I understand.’_

_‘But can you please hear me out?’_

Derek drew his breath a few times then hit send. He needed to call Stiles. He was going to do it. He just needed to drink his tea first. Yes, give him a moment to think through how he wanted to word himself. But just as he was about to put his phone down, it started vibrating and the screen lit up.

‘Incoming Call:

_STILES’_

Derek swallowed hard and froze in his place. Should he answer? He had to answer it, he had been the one asking if he could call, saying he wanted to explain himself. He couldn’t exactly ignore it. With shaky hands, Derek swiped the answer button on the screen and put the phone close to his ear. “H- Hi, Stiles, I-“

“Derek? Oh thank God, I’ve been trying to call you, I was at your apartment, but you weren’t there!”

Derek was taken aback by the unexpected voice. Why did Scott call from Stiles’ phone? Why did he have Stiles’ phone in the first place? Had he seen his messages to Stiles..? “Scott?” Derek said, his mouth was dry, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Derek, I need your help, Stiles’ been kidnapped!”

The rest of Scott’s sentence drowned in the shrill noise of the kettle boiling over on the stove.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is here, with a lot more action this time around. 
> 
> I don't know when the next chapter will be up as I'm moving and I haven't written anything yet, but stay tuned!
> 
> (currently un-beta'ed)

Loud, short footsteps reverberated off the walls and echoed across the room while hushed whispers penetrated Stiles' mind. It sounded just like the start of one of his  recurring nightmares. Stiles did not want to open his eyes because he knew that at any moment he would get a ragged breath fogging up close to his ear by a mouth filled with sharp, jagged teeth. He could already hear his voice as it so often plagued him every night; "do you know any riddles, Stiles?" Its voice filled with obvious glee.

Stiles whimpered and opened his eyes, expecting the regular, damp basement. His vision swam across the room in front of him, not able to focus yet. His head felt like someone was pounding on his head with a hammer. Stiles groaned and felt like vomiting. This was definitely not Eichen House. Had he been drinking last night maybe? This definitely felt like a hangover, wait, no, never mind, this was worse than a hangover, much, much worse. He felt like vomiting again, but all he managed to do was cough which sent a piercing sensation up through his chest and he realized he was having difficulty breathing.

“Well, well, look who’s awake. You two certainly did a number on him, huh?”

“It was his own damn fault for falling down the cliff.”

Stiles eyes fluttered open, and he stared back into a pair of muddy, almost black eyes. He could feel his own heart race inside his chest and he realized how scared he was. He quickly leaned backwards and away from the man in front of him who merely laughed back. A few drops of spit hit Stiles’ face and Stiles’ flight instinct kicked in as he noticed his hands were still tightly secured around his back and bound to the chair he was sitting on.

“I hope you’re feeling comfortable, you’ll be in that position for a while.”

Stiles glared up at the man in front of him, but all the man did was smile back. Stiles noticed he had three long and jagged cuts down his cheek, as if he had been clawed by an animal, a rather large animal. His hair was the same disgusting colour as his eyes and his menacing grin made Stiles' vision swim again in fear. Behind him he could see two other men talking together in low voices, occasionally throwing a few haughty glances at Stiles.

“You do know we don’t have any money right?” Stiles managed to say between a few dry heaves. He must have broken a rib or something, because every time he drew his breath the piercing sensation stabbed through his chest.

The man in front of Stiles just smiled and turned away from him, walking up to the two other men and joined their conversation. Stiles groaned and rolled his head backwards. His brain felt so heavy, as if it was three sizes too large and pressing against his skull. He stared up in the wooden ceiling above him, several holes scattered the woodwork and he could swear he could hear the wind howling outside. Were they still in the preserve somewhere? They were certainly not at Eichen House. Stiles couldn’t help but draw a sigh of relief, even though that just made his pain worse. No matter how bad the situation was, at least he wasn’t at Eichen.

The man who looked to be in charge turned around facing Stiles again;  “I’m sorry, but you aren’t smiling are you? You do know there’s no way out of this situation,” the man said it more as a statement than a question, his voice dripping with sadistic joy as he started walking over to Stiles again.

Stiles managed to raise his head up again with effort, it took a good deal to hold it in position. Oh God, he knew the type of man he was - a person who got off on pain and loved giving it. He should probably tread carefully. “Oh, No, it's just that I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months, so thanks I guess, I'll call you next time I'm having trouble in bed,” well, so much for being careful.

Right afterwards a fist collided with Stiles cheek. He bit his tongue on purpose from stopping himself from crying out.

“No tricks from you!”

Stiles gasped as stars started dancing in front of his eyes. He blinked a few times and tried to focus on the rotten woodwork in the ceiling, but everything went blurry again. It had been one of the other two men who had kidnapped Stiles who had hit him in the face, he looked quite upset for such an innocent, although snarky remark. The other guy had grabbed a hold of him and held him from assaulting Stiles again, while the leader just looked at Stiles with amusement.

“I’m sorry for my colleague, it’s just that he’s a bit scared of you.”

Stiles sniffed and licked his lips, yup, he was bleeding from his nose. Perfect. He did his best to ignore the pain, well, at least look like he was unaffected as he answered; “seemed like we were hitting it off up until now so why is he suddenly afraid of me? What did I ever do?”

“Oh, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about,” the man in charge grinned and walked away to a table standing in the corner by the door.

“Nope, sorry, don’t ring a bell, unless you’re here to collect on some medical bills, and in which case, I’m pretty sure what you’re doing is illegal. Besides, what would we be doing here in an abandoned shack in the middle of the preserve if this was just a squabble over unpaid bills?"

“Oh, very good, Mister Stilinski,” the muddy eyed man walked up to Stiles again, holding a few photos in his hand, their fronts facing away from Stiles, “but no, we’re not here on behalf of Eichen House, I’m sure they miss you however. If you survive the night, I'm sure they would be happy to see you."

Stiles scoffed loudly and tried to look a bit less curious about the photographs and a bit less afraid of the meaning behind the man's words. _If...?_

“These?” the man said, letting the photographs fall to the ground, answering Stiles' badly disguised curiosity. “These are proof of why you’re here, Stilinski. Or at least, they’ll be proof enough for us taking you. We also have a video cassette of you, if they want more evidence.”

Stiles swallowed hard as he stared down at the pictures on the floor. They were all in black and white and quite grainy, but you could easily see Stiles’ face in each of them. Stiles had never seen his face like that. His eyes had a strange, unfamiliar gleam in them, his features were so strangely twisted in glee and anger and plastered with a sadistic grin, clearly enjoying the carnage going on around him. It was by no mistake Stiles, but at the same time, Stiles knew it wasn't really him. Every picture focused on the same; the Nogitsune, using Stiles’ body and the Oni accompanying him while they slaughtered and maimed people in the hospital.

Bile built up in the back of Stiles’ throat and he did his best to keep his stomach down. He understood what they were talking about, but he couldn’t understand why they had taken him or what they were hoping to accomplish. Neither did he understand how they had gotten the photos, his father and Melissa had made sure all evidence was destroyed.

“You do know me and my father are dirt poor, right?” Stiles said in a quiet voice, his eyes still fixed on the photographs.

“Oh, we’re not here for money, Stilinski. We want something else, and you’re our bait.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he snapped up to the stare at the man in front of him, “w-what do you mean bait?” he could feel his heart start racing again, adrenaline pumping through his body, now he was definitely scared, and not just for his own life, he thought he might know what they were after now.

Crinkles formed around the man’s muddy eyes, “I see you understand what we’re after, and you’re right, we want Scott McCall. You’re his best friend, of course he’ll come to your rescue.”

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Stiles practically growled, “why kidnap me and gather evidence against me if I’m only the bait? You wouldn’t have gone to these lengths if that was all you needed me for."

The man laughed, the sound was hollow and eerie, sending a shiver down Stiles’ spine that sent him into another coughing fit.

“You’re pretty smart, little man. You’re right, I have other reasons to gather evidence against you.”

“Wait, boss, you’re not going to tell him are you?”

Stiles scoffed, making him cough harder, there was something that didn’t seem right here, “what’s it matter, right? You’re going to kill both me and Scott in the end, you just need me alive until you get him. So why not tell me of your brilliant master plan, you’re obviously a narcissist and want to revel in your brillianc- ACK.”

This time it was the Boss Himself who had struck Stiles, in the ribs even, the force had knocked the chair over backwards and Stiles couldn’t help but scream out in pain when he hit the floor, his arms caught between the back of the chair and the ground. His scream was quickly interrupted by him being unable to breathe. Right, his leg was also broken. Stiles closed his eyes as the world around him started spinning. His entire body was hurting at this point.

“You’re right, it doesn't matter if I tell you my plan. It’s nothing you haven’t guessed already. I’ll lure Scott McCall out here and kill him, adding his pretty head to my collection, I’ve been wanting it for months, but you see, the Calaveras have decided that the McCall pack was not to be touched. Which means since he hasn’t killed anyone, we can’t kill him, legally. But if the True Alpha comes to rescue his friend as we were about to execute him, a person we have proof killed innocent humans, then we can’t help but defend ourselves now, can we?”

“I didn’t kill those people,” Stiles whispered with a shaky voice, his throat was dry and his heart was racing faster than ever. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, the only visible thing from his very uncomfortable and painful position on the floor. He tried to focus on a dark stain on one of the large beams, but the room still wouldn’t stop spinning and eyes were swimming.

The man came into vision, staring down at Stiles from above, a slight smile on his face, “But we have evidence for the contrary, little fox…”


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles was still lying on the floor, his eyes closed and his breath laboured. His arms were still caught and hurting. No one had even bothered pulling him up off the floor. He wondered how long they were going to let him lie there, forgotten and hurt. Would they even care if he started screaming? Maybe it would be better to fake an asthma attack or something. The good thing about growing up with a best friend that had asthma was that you knew all the tricks and could make it look believable too. Not that it would be difficult to fake; it was getting harder to breathe by the minute. 

Stiles could feel the tears pressing against his eyes again, but no, he wasn't going to cry. He wondered if Scott was searching for him right now, if his father knew. If the rest of his friends were helping to look for him. If Derek had been told. Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted Derek involved. 

“Stop that, that’s the worst thing I know,” the boss-man himself walked over to Stiles’ and pulled his chair off the ground and set it straight. 

Stiles’ cried out in pain as the movements shook his leg slightly, and that’s when he noticed his cheeks were wet. He had actually started crying afterall. He sniffed and tried to stop as he glanced sideways up at the boss-man who was now walking away from him, and, actually… leaving. He was leaving out the door. And here Stiles thought he was in for another beating. He let out a shaky breath and looked around. The boss-man and one of the henchmen had left, leaving only the dude with the muscles, the one who had punched him in the face earlier. Stiles could see him throwing a couple angry glances at him from time to time. Or wait, were those glances supposed to be nervous? He had freaked out pretty badly and shouted at Stiles when he had joked before. The boss-man couldn’t seriously mean that the guy was actually scared of Stiles? Like seriously? Let’s be real here. Stiles wondered if he could use that to his advantage though… but it wasn’t as if Stiles would be able to escape anyway. Stiles sighed and struggled slightly against the bindings around his wrists, but he knew it was no use. They were thick leather handcuffs, going from his wrists and halfway up to his elbows. No way was he going to get out of them, not by his own. 

Now that Stiles’ chair was the right way up again he could breathe a lot better, thankfully. No, he wasn’t going to fake an asthma attack. He was enjoying them not bothering him for the moment, thank you very much. That dude would most likely try to beat him up again, and he was enjoying the reprieve. However, now that he had time for himself he could feel all his hurts and bruises a lot better. His leg was throbbing pretty badly after it had hit the ground when he fell over and from its recent jostling, not to mention that more or less the entire pant leg was soaked in blood. That couldn’t be healthy. Stiles’ licked his lips slowly, feeling for bruises from when the brute had hit him in the face. Oh yeah, that was going to look lovely tomorrow. If… there was a tomorrow. 

Stiles sighed, trying to keep his mind occupied on something else than the pain. He stared up at the brute standing over by the table. He caught his eyes for a second, but the guy had quickly diverted his eyes. He  _ was _ scared of him,  _ wasn’t _ he? The big bad burly brute was scared of small scrawny Stiles. Stiles squinted at him, wondering what his actual name was. He was tired of just calling them “those evil dudes” or “that-guy-who-punched-me” or whatever. Yes, he was going to give them all a name, just for the sake of it really. He didn’t exactly want to ask them and draw attention to himself when they were so kind as to leave him alone. Besides, how would that conversation go? Would he introduce himself by full name and insist on teaching them how to pronounce it? Or would he just casually remark to them that he was ready for first name basis, so could they please introduce themselves? Stiles shook his head mentally. No chance for either of those options. 

Just then the two other guys came in again, and the three huddled together by the door, talking together in muted voices. The guy with the claw marks on his face was the leader. He was tall, his eyes and hair were dark like mud and his skin was a disgustingly pale and sickly yellow colour. Stiles was going to name him Steve. Yeah, Steve the boss-man. He looked like a Steve. Stiles didn’t know why, he just did. The two others could be Carl and Hugh. Stiles measured the two other henchmen. The guy who had punched Stiles was tall with black hair and muscles, perfectly lean. Stiles groaned at the thought of how nice he actually looked, now that he was studying him a bit closer. That so wasn’t fair. He probably had washboard abs just like Derek did-  Stiles swallowed hard. He was not about to think about Derek’s gorgeous body while tied to a chair awaiting to be executed. That just wasn’t appropriate. Why did his mind insist on wandering at really inopportune times?

In the end, when his mind had stopped wandering and his thoughts no longer were fixated on Derek, he decided the muscle man could be called Carl. The short, slightly bald man that barely spoke could be named Hugh, it just fit him.

Stiles squinted, feeling his head nod forwards as if he was falling asleep. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. He must be delirious or something, giving names to his kidnappers, maybe it was the blood loss. He had to amuse himself somehow though, and right now, giving them names helped him cope. Yes, that’s what it did. It helped him cope. 

Stiles’s head fell forwards a bit more, trying to hide his face so the three wouldn’t see him cry again. 

  
  


\---

Derek was running as fast as he was able to. He was going to comb the entire forest if that was what it took. He HAD to find Stiles. Adrenaline was rushing through Derek’s veins, and blood hammered against his temples. He refused to give up, even though he had been out searching for almost two hours already; he refused to take a break. Finding Stiles was all that mattered. He could still remember Scott’s devastated face when he had met up with him at the Sheriff’s Department. The entire place had been complete chaos; orders being shouted, people scurrying about, extra deputies being called in for the emergency, calls to other stations in the next few towns over - just in case. The Sheriff looked calm and seemed like he was taking it pretty well, but Derek had seen his glossy and empty eyes which had looked straight through him without noticing his presence. Derek knew the turmoil going on inside the Sheriffs head. 

 

Derek was so focused on himself that he didn’t hear someone else coming crashing through the undergrowth before he almost crashed into that someone.

“Derek!” a female voice cried out and Derek stopped to a halt.

In front of Derek stood Malia, heaving just slightly for breath. He noticed salty, dried streaks down the side of her face, but he didn’t comment. 

“I thought Scott was gathering everyone for a search party at the sheriff station,” Malia said, her voice was hoarse and low. Derek could hear her trying to hold back a sniff.

“They still are,” Derek said, not really up for speaking much. He wanted to continue searching, but he couldn’t just run off and leave her alone. He had to explain himself. With  _ words _ . He drew his breath and was about to say something more, but Malia interjected.

“You didn’t want to wait for their plans,” Malia said and nodded with a small, sad smile and didn’t wait for Derek’s answer, “Me neither.”

Derek looked down at the ground and drew his breath a few times, “Four eyes are better than two,” he said softly after a short pause.

Malia smiled back at him once more, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter~ 
> 
> I'm getting a new beta reader soon! I'll update you all when she's looked through my grammar and everything ;) she's a lifesaver~


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I wrote the first scene last year, I so had that line before Jeff did(I swear, this season has been eerie with similarities, but like tiny, minuscule ones which most likely only me as the author with all my crazy ideas cozily wrapped up in my head will see).

“Why’d you thank me?” Derek glanced over at Malia. They had been running silently for awhile but had now stopped. Derek was threading carefully, keeping his eyes on the ground, while following Malia’s nose - although Derek could smell it now too.

Malia glanced back at him, “Because you let me come with you. I know how much he means to you and I know how you feel right now.”

Derek could feel his face go red. He wasn’t sure if it was due to shame or happiness. “And how do you feel?”

Malia was quiet for a while as she halted, searching for something on the ground, “Stiles and I broke up,” she answered bluntly, avoiding both Derek’s eyes and his actual question. 

Derek crinkled his nose walking up towards a cliff that was towering high above them in the now dark forest. “I’m not sure he sees it like that, maybe you should inform him,” he replied, wondering what Malia really meant.

The strong scent had hit their noses when they were about to run past this place, but there was no mistaking that familiar smell: Blood, dried and old. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it - Derek knew who the blood belonged to. 

Malia shrugged, “I’ll tell him when we find him… Stiles might think he likes me, but he's really more in love with the idea of me. Besides, he would never have broken up with me willingly. In reality, he’s been in love with you the whole time. He just didn’t know it himself, or at least, he didn’t want to admit it… Even though everyone knew..." Malia averted her eyes away from Derek, although she could feel Derek’s stare boring into her back. 

The whole time? And everyone knew??? How come he hadn’t known before today? Derek’s face went red again as Malia bent down over a dark spot on the ground and he walked over to her. The leaves and the ground had soaked up most of the blood, but Derek could still smell it. Stiles had been lying there earlier that day, he had been bleeding quite badly too. There was also a thick smell of fear and despair in the air. “The whole time…” Derek whispered out, repeating his thoughts. It wasn’t really a question anymore. Derek could feel his cheeks redden again, but this time, it wasn’t out of embarrassment. 

Malia hung her head so Derek couldn’t see her face. This was a bad time to have this particular conversation but she couldn’t help herself, “Yes. I notice things you know. You all might think I’m stupid, but I’m not dumb. I can see the way you two look at each other when you think the other one isn’t watching,” Malia’s voice broke on the last few words, and she turned around and pointed at the cliff and pulled a pocket flashlight out from her shorts. 

The beam fell on a large, flat rock protruding from the cliffside, it too was covered in blood. 

“This blood is at least four hours old,” Derek remarked without life.

 

Derek could see Malia’s hands shaking. Her arms were straight down by her sides, her shoulders hunched and her knuckles were turning white. Derek wasn’t sure what to say to her. Was there even anything he could say? Personally, he felt numb and emotionless. They had walked up to the top of the cliff, and they could see Stiles’ footprints clearly where he had stumbled and fallen. It didn’t take much imagination to know what had happened. Slowly, Derek pulled his phone out and started dialing Scott. 

Malia snapped around towards him and grabbed his arm - hard. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice trembling just slightly.

“We need to inform Scott,” Derek replied, his voice ringing hollow. 

“We- we don’t know what actually happened…” Malia bit back, still clutching Derek’s arm.

“But we do. We could smell them dragging Stiles’-.... Stiles away,” Derek had almost said "Stiles’ body".

“Yes, and we need to go after them and rescue him.”

Derek didn’t know what to say. Malia’s plan was so simple, so straightforward. Of course that’s what they had to do. Search for him until they found him and rescue him and get him back safe and sound. But then again, the cliff was so steep and Stiles had lost so much blood. If Derek had been the one falling down this cliff, he would have hurt himself pretty badly, and he was a werewolf that could heal. Not to mention that Stiles had hit the outlying rock halfway down. He felt helpless and void of life, his mouth dry. What if Stiles was... The amount of blood they had seen down there… “Malia, that was four hours ago… We don’t-” The words hitched in his throat and Derek shook his head, trying his best to keep his tone from trembling as he spoke. His vision blurred. He blinked quickly a couple of times and stared up at the night sky, letting the wind dry his eyes.

"No," Malia growled back at him. Her eyes twinkled coyote-blue, "He's alive, and I will find him. We'll cover more ground if we split up. I- I have to tell him… Like you said... I have to… He isn't dead, okay? Don’t you dare believe so.”

Derek nodded, staring down at the ground. He watched Malia take off like a bullet out of the corner of his eye. Again he raised the hand holding his phone and started to dial Scott’s number. 

 

\---

Stiles woke up with a scream. He had just barely fallen asleep when he had heard the usual nightmare whisper in his ears; the old one with the Nogitsune. The chair he was bound to wobbled threateningly, but this time, Stiles didn’t fall over for a second time that night. His heart was throbbing hard and fast, and Stiles felt that familiar tightening in his chest that alerted him of a panic attack. Stiles let out a terrified squeak and tried to calm himself, bending his head down towards his knees and holding his breath. Not now, he couldn’t have a panic attack now. This was not the place and he was in no condition to freak out. It probably wasn’t a good idea to have a panic attack with broken ribs and who knew what else. Closing his eyes, Stiles tried to focus on something else, and for a moment he thought he could feel Derek’s strong hands on his shoulders, asking him if he was okay - reassuring him. It helped anchor him. Derek’s soft words were so much more calming than the Nogitsune’s rasp. In his mind Stiles could feel a pair of lips brushing against his cheek and Stiles closed his eyes. Had that really happened? This same day? Stiles couldn’t believe it. He tried his best to focus on that particular memory of the two of them in the parking lot. The only memory he had of them together like that…  The only good memory from today. The only good memory in a while really. Stiles doubted there would be more like it. He opened his eyes again and kept holding his breath until his ears started ringing. 

 

“Stiles? Wake up!” 

A loud snap was heard right after and Stiles startled awake and scoured the room for who had made the cry and that weird sound. Wasn’t that… was it..? Derek? It couldn’t be... Stiles groaned and ran a hand over his face, he could feel bruises and dried blood under his palm, and dear God, his headache was worse than ever. At least those three hunters (because that’s what they were right?) were gone…

Stiles sighed. Derek’s voice must have been in his imagination. There was no way he was here. He ran his hand over the back of his head and felt a pretty large bump. He wondered if he had gotten a concussion from the fall or from all the Stiles-hitting. Stiles froze - bringing both his hands up in front of his face and stared at them. The handcuffs… He swirled around on his chair and there they were, those thick, impossible to get out of handcuffs laid open on the floor, just like that, torn in half as if by force. This was another dream wasn’t it? Or nightmare, or hallucination. No way was it real. He wasn’t that lucky to have been bound with defect handcuffs - was he? Stiles instinctively raised both hands in front of his face again and stared at them. Five fingers per hand, and no more, but Stiles was still suspicious. He slowly got to his feet and fell over with a choked whine. Right, his leg was broken. Stiles wheezed, slowly moving out of the chair and sat down carefully on the floor, resting a trembling hand on the place he had seen the bone protruding out of the fabric of his pants earlier. His heart skipped a beat in his chest. This was definitely not real, it couldn’t be. His pants were still torn where the bone had been poking out. However, now there was just a deep gash, no bone sickly jutting out where it wasn’t supposed to and no broken bones. In a way, this dream was even crueler than all the others that day. He laid down on the floor and closed his eyes, letting his tears flow freely. He could sense a sort of spark in his chest, a faint hope starting to spread through his entire body, and that was worse than even Brunski coming back to haunt him. 

 

Stiles got to his feet with several painful groans. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care if this was another hallucination. He didn’t care that it wasn’t real. He wasn’t going to just lie on the floor until he woke up. He had heard Derek’s voice, and maybe, if he willed it strongly enough, he’d see him again - just maybe. With slow, limping steps, Stiles dragged himself towards the door, looking this way and that for dangers and nightmares, but everything was quiet and not even a shadow stirred. The door to the shack was slightly ajar, and all Stiles needed to do was give it a slight push; it didn’t even creak. Stiles peered out carefully before he continued forwards, his teeth clenched tight so as to not make a sound. Looking around, he could see that his assumption earlier had been right. They were somewhere in the preserve, but somewhere deep and unfamiliar. The trees were tall and the thick branches were blotting out most of the moon. 

“How the- How did you-” someone cried from behind Stiles as a strong arm grabbed him around the neck and squeezed. “How did you manage to escape?!”

Stiles tried to gasp for air, but the arm held on so tightly he could barely even make a sound. Then, everything happened so fast. At the same time his vision started to blur, Stiles could see someone incredibly fast coming out from a nearby bush and jump the guy behind Stiles. A loud yell was heard and the brute behind him - Carl, was it? let go. Stiles fell forwards as air rushed back into his lungs. A frightened yell from behind followed by a cry of pain, then a pair of familiar, green eyes came into Stiles’ vision. “Stiles?! can you hear me? Get up!” Derek’s voice was low and he grabbed Stiles’ shoulders, dragging him up to his feet.

Stiles couldn’t believe it. It was Derek. Right there in front of him stood Derek freaking Hale. This dream was indeed cruel, but he didn’t care anymore. Just for a moment, he could enjoy being safe. Stiles fell forwards and buried himself into Derek’s chest. The older man smelled of sweat and dried, old leaves after his arduous rescue mission, which had been a complete success by the way, at least in Stiles’ book, and now Stiles was safe... Stiles wished he could stay there forever, safe and sound in Derek’s arms. Those strong arms were now currently wrapped around Stiles’ frame, which was shaking with exhaustion and relief.

Derek sighed and rested his chin on top of Stiles’ head while still looking out for danger, “it’s alright Stiles, I got you...”

  
It took Stiles a while to register the gunshot, and by the time he realized it, Derek had spit blood into Stiles’ face and they were both falling to the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's ages since I've updated and all I can say is: I'm so sorry (again).  
> This chapters been difficult. I've rewritten, thrown away, rewritten again, edited, thrown away once more and just, wow. Hardest chapter so far to get right and I'm finally happy now! So I really hope you enjoy! I'm sorry I'm leaving you with another (nailbiting) cliffhanger, but hang tight friends~  
> In truth, I wanted to build up a backlog but, finding time to write enough for that has been difficult.


End file.
